


Time is on your side

by benedictedcumberbatched



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Older Characters, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benedictedcumberbatched/pseuds/benedictedcumberbatched
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock had lived his life and had seen and done things he regretted, but he would not let his silence be a regret. For lettersarecolours on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time is on your side

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlock Holmes does not belong to me. He belongs first and foremost to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and of course to Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat, without whom, Molly Hooper would not exist either.
> 
> Requested by lettersarecolours on tumblr.

Time had not been all that kind to Sherlock Holmes. Of course, with his line of work, he knew it would happen eventually. There were only so many times you could have the shit beaten out of you, been shot at, poisoned, or drugged without it having a lasting affect. Frankly he was impressed he had managed to live so long, even though he had technically already died twice.

A small smile erupted at the thought. Who in their meager lives could say they had died and come back twice? Of course, he hadn’t actually died the first time but that’s not what the death certificate he had once nicked from Mycroft’s office and now was framed proudly on his wall said. He had spent countless hours staring at the neat little script in the bottom right corner while lost in thought.

Sherlock couldn’t exactly pinpoint when she had started seeping into every corner of his mind palace. He always remembered her the way she had been, bright, cheerful, atrocious sense of style. But time had been kind to her and although Sherlock had never said, she was just as beautiful, if not more so, than she was the day he had torn her apart at that Christmas Party. He still saw her frequently even though he had slowed down a bit in the past five or so years. He was surprised she was still at Bart’s but something’s never truly changed.

But St. Bart’s was not where Sherlock was now. He was outside the simple house outside of London. She had ultimately moved on at one point in her life, but Sherlock had been the one there for her when it all turned south and had divorced. She had a couple kids, grown now with children of their own, something Sherlock could say he didn’t have. Although if helping John and Mary raise their kids and threatening the boys that had chased after their daughter counted then he would count it enough.

Sherlock walked up the path, his hands deep in his pockets. Why he had waited so long, he didn’t know but he needed to change that. People didn’t get any younger and while Sherlock was a man who had done many things in his lifetime that he had regretted, he didn’t want this to be one of them.

He gently rapped on the door and waited, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He didn’t even know if she was home and Sherlock turned away when he heard the door open.

“Sherlock?” his eyes closed at the sound of her voice and he spun around with a smile.

“Molly. I-I was just in the neighborhood and though I’d stop by,” he replied, taking a deep breath.

Molly’s head cocked the side slightly, “No, it’s not. What is it, Sherlock?” she asked. He smiled inwardly; she had spent far too much time with him in her life and had picked up a few things along the way. But then again, she could always see him for who he really was underneath the hardened exterior.

Sherlock took a few steps toward her, and looked at her. There were crows feet a the corners of her eyes while she smiled, a light sprinkling of gray among the brown of her hair shone in the rare sunlight, but her eyes were still as youthful as ever. His breath caught for a moment and he swallowed, looking away for a second before returning his gaze to hers. “I adore you, Molly,” he said, his head tilting to the side for a moment as he caught her sudden surprise. Had he done it wrong? “I know I’ve never said anything before, frankly I didn’t want to admit it to myself but it’s always been you, Molly Hooper. You’re the one who mattered the most, you’re the one who saved me when I was shot, you’ve saved me more times than I can count, and I was stupid enough to let you go. ” Sherlock stopped as she came toward him, her finger pressed against his lips. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears and suddenly Sherlock wondered if he really had done it wrong.

“You idiot. You complete and utter idiot,” she murmured, her tone containing a hint of laughter. “It’s about time.” Sherlock stepped forward, his hand cupping her cheek before hesitantly pressing his lips to hers. Tugging his hand out of his pocket, he wrapped his arm around her waist, reveling in the curves that time and children had given her before carefully walking her back into the house and closing the door behind them.


End file.
